


From the Ashes

by LichQueen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Inquisitor Backstory, Inquisitor Has a Twin, Lyrium Withdrawal, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), POV Alternating, Reaver Warrior, Slow Burn Romance, Templar Brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LichQueen/pseuds/LichQueen
Summary: It is 9:41 Dragon, and the Mage-Templar War is raging across Thedas. The Templar Order has broken away from the Chantry and the Circles of Magi have dissolved after the events of Kirkwall. In a final attempt to gain peace, Divine Justinia convenes a Conclave in hopes of negotiating an end to the chaos. Enter Lady Siobhani Trevelyan--warrior, noblewoman, and only daughter to Bann Marten Trevelyan of Ostwick. She is just one of the many who travel to the Temple of Sacred Ashes deep in the Fereldan Frostbacks. Sent to petition for peace with others of her House, Siobhani expects the trip to be uneventful and dull. Little does she know that Fate has much in store for her, and that the events at the Conclave are only the beginning. She will face untold trials as she charges forward into a dark, uncertain future--stumbling across unexpected friendships and new love in her journey to bring Thedas back from the brink of destruction.





	1. In the Beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a following of the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition with my OC, Siobhani Trevelyan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siobhani recalls a letter from her brother, and the events of the Conclave transpire.

### Prologue

_Dearest Sister,_

_I must first ask your forgiveness. It has been much too long since my last letter. Things have been...trying...as of late._

_The fall of the Circles have left the Order in a state of utter chaos, as I'm sure you've heard. Many of my brothers and sisters-in-arms have become crazed and thirsty for blood, marching off into the wilds to hunt down rebels. Even our own brother, Varius, has seen fit to desert his post. The last I heard he and a band of other Templars were holed up somewhere in the Hinterlands, but it has been weeks since I've had any word from him. He's never gone this long without writing, and I cannot help but fear the worst. I should have kept a closer eye on him after what happened in Kirkwall. Losing Lisbetha to a mage damaged Varius beyond repair. Now he sees all mages as fiends._

_In light of the madness, the Knight-Commander has been summoned to the Divine's Conclave to help negotiate an end to this war. I will be traveling with him as part of a small guard troop, and, though I am pleased to have been chosen, I am oddly nervous. My gut tells me that something is wrong. The others laughed at my concerns, waving them off as jitters. Maybe they are right...maybe my time as a Templar has caught up to me and I've succumbed to paranoia. Maker, I hope they're right. I feel Thedas is slowly sinking into the abyss, and if the Divine's call for peace is not heard I fear that she will not be saved._

_Enough of me though, Vani. How do you fare? I cannot say how pleased I was to hear that you'd decided to leave the Estate to serve the Chantry. I hope I didn't ruin the surprise. Arden sent me a letter practically dripping with pride and praise informing me of your decision. You know how Arden is...his loyalty to the Chantry is only overshadowed by his loyalty and faith in the Maker himself. Remember how Varius used to joke that Arden would donate all of the Trevelyan Estate to the Chantry if the Divine but asked? We always laughed, but we knew he was right. I assume that our darling mother was properly distraught at the news...in fact I can almost hear her nagging you now._

_Do not let her guilt you into staying in Ostwick. I know it's not likely considering you tried to leave with me when I joined the Templars. We would have fought well together, you and I. I must admit, however, that the life of a Templar is more trying than I'd ever imagined. I would not wish the nightmares that I face on my worst enemy, and just imagining you going through this hell is something that I cannot endure. I hope you find peace and a sort of happiness with the Sisters. Maker knows that you were destined for something greater than being married off into some fool lord's house to do nothing but simper at dinner parties and bear children. You are strong, Siobhani, and you deserve more than a life behind the bars of a gilded cage._

_Chantry life can be simple compared to what you're used to, but it can also be rewarding and full of more adventure than you'd guess. You have chosen a truly honorable path, and I am so proud of you. I must also admit that I am glad to hear of you joining for more selfish reasons. Perhaps with you a part of the Chantry our paths may cross?_

_Maker, but do I hope. It has been too long since I've seen you, and you are dearly missed. Even just a moment's peace with you would soothe my troubled soul._

_I fear I must go now, Vani. There are many preparations to be made for the journey to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and only a short time to complete them. Do me a favor? I know you will but I feel I must ask...light a candle for me in the Chantry back home? Light one for yourself as well and pray to the Maker for peace. I will light one for you at the Temple and pray for your safety. It is the only thing that I truly ask the Maker for anymore...I hope he can still hear me. Be safe and be cautious, Vani. The world is a madhouse now, and I would not know what to do if you were lost._

_With love and prayers,_

Ruben

~~~~~

Screams in the darkness, echoing. A figure flooded in white light...wait, no. The light is green. Sickly. Foul. It burns too bright....scorching behind my eyelids and piercing into my mind like a thousand needles. Too much of me hurts. Suddenly, a memory behind the light. Dark brown hair, thick and soft like mine. Hazel eyes the color of moss on the forest floor, playful and glimmering like jewels. A warm smile breaking over his face like dawn on the horizon.

Ruben.

More pain rips through my hand and my brother's face wavers, illuminated by flashes of green light. My scream tears from my throat, startling me. It is shrill, agonized and frightened.

_I'm going to die._

The realization echoes in the memory, cresting high like a wave and leaving me awash in paralyzing fear. Pain, crippling and sharp, sizzles in my left arm like the nerves are on fire. That sickly green light. Everything is bathed in that fucking light. My eyesight is tunneling and a roar echoes in my ears. Inhuman. Angry. 

One last glance...eyes straining as they search for his smiling face. One last stupid grin before succumbing to the dark. But he's gone. He is somewhere safe and surrounded by his Templar brothers. The thought brings me peace. 

"Maker, keep my brother safe." 

My eyes close with my final prayer still a whisper on my lips...and then the explosion rocks the Temple. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you everyone who has started to read "From the Ashes". I've been wanting to write this for a long time and just got up the courage to start posting on AO3. Any feedback, criticism or words of advice/encouragement are greatly appreciated and, again, thank you for reading!


	2. The Wrath of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking to find herself the only survivor of an explosion that destroys the Conclave, Siobhani is blamed for the following chaos and is branded a mass murder. She also discovers that a massive tear in the Veil was left in the wake of the explosion, and that it threatens to swallow the world. Informed that the mysterious mark on her hand, presumably given to her when she created the Breach, is the only shot at survival for Thedas--and for her--Siobhani strikes up a tenuous alliance with Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast to fight through the demon hordes littering the valley. However, as they battle their way to the Temple they quickly discover that the journey will be anything but easy, and that Siobhani is running out of time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is from Siobhani's POV, but the Chapter POVs will alternate between her and Cullen almost every time. Any feedback, kudos or comments are appreciated, and thank you so very, very much for reading. I hope you enjoy!

The shade sunk onto my blade with a nauseating squelch, its mouth gaping wide as it belted out an unearthly scream. Blood sprayed from the wound, an inky-black geyser sprinkling across my armor and splattering wetly over my cheek as I turned my head to avoid the worst of it. Maker, but the stench was _awful_. The shade gasped its last rattling breath--the air stuttering from its mouth in a puff of white wisps--and the demon slumped to the ground in a crumpled heap. I wrenched my sword from its chest with a disgusted growl. How much longer could we hold out like this? This was the fourth time we'd stumbled across a horde of these monsters on the way to the forward camp, and we weren't even halfway there according to my sullen guide. I could already feel my limbs growing heavy and sluggish from battle, and this was unlikely to be our last fight. 

My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath after the fight--my lungs straining to suck in the thin, frigid, mountain air and my breath hissing past my lips in thick, white clouds. I felt my shoulders slump as the new aches and pains began to set in, cutting harshly through the adrenaline fog clouding my senses. A better question was how long could _I_ hold out like this? I'd already cheated the void once by some strange twist of fate, but the chances of me surviving past this were damn near nonexistent. I stared listlessly at the demon blood trickling from my blade in streams of oily black, feeling hopelessly small in the face of the truth. It was like I was a child again, kneeling in the Chantry and listening to the Sisters recite the Chant of Light as I finally realized my own mortality. My life was so _short_. So insignificant. A blip in the eyes of the Maker. There was so much that I'd wanted to do, so much that I'd wanted to see in my life and I'd wasted it. The mark on my hand glowed softly--the ebbing light reminding me that I was at its mercy, and that it fully intended to swallow me whole. 

_I'll do what I can. Whatever it takes._

My promise echoed heavily in my ears, the full weight of what it meant ripping me from the ether of my thoughts and sending me spiraling violently to back to earth. To reality. Andraste's knickers, but I was a fool. 

I watched the demon blood trickle beneath my feet--a hollow, bleak feeling pooling in my chest like ice water as the black ooze leached into the packed snow and flowed onto the thick ice of the frozen pond. Wisps of steam rose from the tainted puddle, the silvery tendrils curling elegantly in the wintry wind before being swept away with the shifting snow. A few feet away Cassandra sunk her sword into the last shade with a guttural roar, driving the iron in to the hilt. 

More black blood mixed with the dunes of endless white. 

The Seeker stumbled as she ripped her sword from the fallen demon, her boots looking for purchase as they slid in the grayish mush of blood and snow and Maker knows what else. One look at the slump of her shoulders and I felt the tiny bloom of hope I'd been saving wilt and die. We fought well together, but even Cassandra--a fierce, seasoned, and formidable warrior--was showing signs of fatigue. If the rest of the valley was as infested as we believed....Maker, we'd be lucky if we made it to the camp at all. 

"The valley is crawling with them, Seeker." I hissed, fighting to hide the tremor of fear in my voice as I dragged my sword through the snow. The blood left gray streaks in the powder and the iron emerged clean, glinting dangerously in the Breach's light. 

"Yes, and more will come through every moment the rifts and the Breach stay open. We must move...and quickly." She replied, wiping off her own sword with her face twisted in disgust. 

"How much further until we reach the forward camp?" I asked. I didn't wait for her to answer. Instead, I fumbled for the leather pouch on my belt and brandished the burned, tattered map I'd managed to scrounge off of a dead soldier. Gently flicking it open, I felt my heart sink lower and lower in my chest as I skimmed the page. The fallen scout I'd frisked had dutifully marked out the places that were seeing the most trouble, and unfortunately they just so happened to be the paths that would get us to the forward camp the quickest. Cassandra sheathed her sword and stalked through the slush towards me, peering over my shoulder at the map with a pensive glare. 

"These paths are no good. They're blocked by debris from the explosion. This way here is swarming with demons..." She muttered, touching a gloved finger to a short, squiggly line that cut straight through the valley, "It'd be best to steer clear of it. This way looks like our best chance." 

I stared at the path she was pointing at and felt my stomach drop to my knees. She was tapping her finger on one long line that wound around the outskirts of the valley, and it looked to be a tedious trek uphill to get to the forward camp. So much for the path of least resistance. 

"Maker's balls, Seeker, it's nearly twice as long as the others," I growled, "Are you sure that's our best shot?" 

"I want to live just as much as you do, and I can promise you that we have a better chance of avoiding most of the danger if we go around...long way or not." Cassandra explained, turning her back on me with an exasperated huff. 

"Fair point," I sighed, folding the map along its creases and stuffing it back into my pouch. 

"We'd best get moving." Cassandra suggested. The Seeker marched towards the stone steps leading further up the mountain, her shoulders hunched and her expression dark--a thundercloud personified. 

I glanced up at the roaring maelstrom swirling in the sky, flexing my fingers as the mark crackled and burned with the Breach's magic. _Every time the Breach expands, your mark spreads...and it is killing you..._ The same bitter dread from before trickled into my chest as Cassandra's words rang loud in my ears. 

_Time to put on your brave face, Pup._ My Da's familiar, gentle voice drowned out the Seeker's death sentence, banishing the dread and the fear and leaving me awash with a renewed surge of determination. It grounded me. It reminded me of what needed to be done...of what was really at stake. 

"Yes. We'd better," I answered through gritted teeth, clenching my marked hand into a trembling fist, "I don't fancy dying today." 

~~~~~

The tear in the Veil flickered and hummed; the sound vibrating deep in my chest and shaking loose the gravel and dust at my feet. A ray of energy arced from my palm and into the rift's crystalline heart. The emerald light flickered across the scorched earth and illuminated the twisted remains of templars, mages, and Maker knows who else--a grotesque lightning show of collateral damage. In all my life, I'd never felt such pain. It was worse than the time I'd fallen from Da's horse and felt the bones in my arm snap like twigs beneath me, or the time I'd almost drowned when the rip tide had caught me--the seawater burning like fire as it had filled my lungs with each desperate gasp for air. It was worse than the first time I'd felt cold, sharpened steel break my skin during a fight. 

It was even worse than the torture I'd faced when Ruben left me behind for the Order, or the heartbreak we'd all suffered when Varius had returned to us a cold, unfeeling, shell of a man only a few years after he took his Templar vows. 

All of the pain that I'd ever felt combined paled in comparison to this. 

As the bolt of Fade magic crackled into the rift, I swore the bones in my hand were splintering and liquefying at the same time...and the agony didn't stop there. The feeling tore up the bones of my arm and ripped down my spine to my legs, singeing my nerves and planting me to the spot like a statue. I was paralyzed with pain. A scream caught in my throat as all the air whooshed from my lungs and my knees wobbled dangerously, threatening to buckle beneath me. It was all I could do to remember how to breathe and to keep myself upright. Despite the tears blurring my vision, I could see that whatever was happening was working. The rift writhed like an eel thrown into boiling water--twisting and undulating--before it slowly started to collapse in on itself; growing smaller and smaller as the Veil knitted itself back together. Finally the rip seemed to implode, swathing the area in green light before it faded away with a whisper. 

I collapsed into a trembling, moaning heap on the gravel and clutched my knees to my chest like a child, riding out the pain as the residual flames of the mark's magic licked at my bones. The tears streamed down my face unbidden and cut through the grime that I knew caked my cheeks like a second skin. My breath left me in shuddering hisses, sliding through teeth clenched so tight I thought they'd break. I didn't give a damn whether my onlookers thought it was pathetic or not--they didn't know the horror of what I'd just felt. They had no idea. I clutched my marked hand to my chest until I felt the pain ebb away like the tide, finally cracking open my eyes and blinking away the white splotches blurring my vision. 

_Andraste's fucking Mabari_ if that was what it felt like closing a rift, how could I possibly close the Breach? 

I shakily propped myself up on my elbows and gazed around the courtyard, slowly turning my eyes towards the tall, bald elf that had thrust my hand towards the bloody rift in the first place. He met my gaze with carefully guarded, blue-grey eyes and a small smile that bordered on condescending--betraying only a mild concern at my state and an almost morbid curiosity. The elf was a mage and he seemed to be a hedge mage at that. His robes were plain and worn in places, though meticulously clean, and a bone ornament dangled from a strip of leather around his neck. From his dress I assumed he was Dalish at first, but the lack of a vallaslin on his sharp, angular features dashed the idea. His simple staff was hewn from a pale, knotted wood, and he leaned upon it heavily as he gazed down at me--watching--waiting for me to say something. 

"What did you do?" I croaked, fighting to keep myself from collapsing as my arms shook under my weight. I swallowed hard, surprised that my voice didn't even so much as tremor despite the fact that I was utterly terrified. 

" _I_ did nothing," He replied, gazing down at me with a small smile, "The credit is yours." 

A bitter chuckle slid unbidden from my lips and I pulled myself shakily to my feet, fighting the bile that was rising in the back of my throat. 

"You mean this." I spat, glaring at the flickering mark on my hand. I could see the elf stiffen at my tone, though he nodded politely in agreement. 

"Yes. Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized that the mark might be able to seal the rifts that had opened in the Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct." He explained, his tone very matter-of-fact. 

_Well, well, well...aren't we pleased with ourselves?_

"That means that it could also close the Breach itself!" Cassandra breathed. She gazed at my marked hand with a glimmer of hope as she spoke, and I felt my stomach wrench at the very idea of the kind of pain I would face attempting the Breach. 

"Possibly," The elf agreed, his expression blank...almost bored, "It seems you hold the key to our salvation." 

My eyes flashed to his and I fought to keep my lips from twisting into a sneer. I didn't _want_ to hold the key to anyone's salvation. I wanted to go _home_. I wanted to forget this place: the Conclave, all of the death, my family's loyalty to the Chantry...which had brought me to this fucking place to begin with. I wanted to erase everything and just crawl back to Ostwick with my tail between my legs so I could lick my wounds in relative peace. 

"Good to know! Here I thought we were going to be ass-deep in demons forever." 

The rogue that had been fighting the demon horde alongside us came sidling up, interrupting my own snide comment as he picked at his sleeve with a practiced air of nonchalance and a bemused expression. He was a dwarf: stocky and rough-faced with a grin like a hyena and a voice like gravel and tavern smoke. I bit back a smile and watched as Cassandra glared at him through narrowed eyes. The tension between the two was immediately palpable, and the longer he stood there the deeper the Seeker's scowl became--her lip curling in disgust and her eyes flashing dangerously. Varric ignored her with all of the tact of a seasoned diplomat and, instead, graced me with a flamboyant, sweeping bow and a wicked smile that I couldn't resist returning. 

"Varric Tethras--rogue, storyteller, and, occasionally, unwelcome tag-along." He introduced, giving Cassandra a wink. The Seeker's jaw tightened--the muscle twitching and her mouth setting into a hard line. The hostility was rolling off of her so violently that it was beginning to make _me_ nervous. 

"Are you going to be alright, kid? That looked rough..." He continued, a flash of concern warming his features. His expression reminded me so much of my Da that I found myself struggling to answer at first. 

"I won't lie to you. It hurt like hell, but I seem to be in one piece so that's all that matters. It's a pleasure to meet you, Varric. Please, call me Vani." I replied, extending my hand in greeting. Varric shook it with a firm grip and a wide smile. He seemed friendly enough, and definitely like someone I could get along with. Yet, somewhere behind me I heard a scoff. 

"You may reconsider that stance, in time." The elf muttered. A small part of me couldn't help but wonder what Varric had done to piss everyone off, and judging from my first impression of him the story was bound to be a good one. I dared not ask, though. Not with Cassandra practically boiling with anger behind me. 

"Oh, I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles." Varric laughed, waving his hand in airy dismissal at the elf's obvious disdain--whether this time it was from the dwarf himself or the nickname I wasn't sure, but I guessed that both played a part. 

"Absolutely not..." Cassandra fumed, marching towards Varric with a murderous glare, "Your help is _appreciated_ , Varric, but..." 

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me..." He loudly interrupted, studying Cassandra as if he was daring her to say no. There were a few heartbeats of silence save for the Breach rumbling and cracking like thunder in the background. The Seeker's mouth twisted into a sneer as a flush rose from underneath her armor--creeping all the way up to the tips of her ears--and we all watched warily as her color morphed from pink to scarlet to a startling shade of purple. Even the seemingly unshakable Master Tethras looked a little ruffled. 

"Seeker, we need all the help we can get. It was hard fought just getting this far and we still have a ways to go," I implored, "We're wasting time here." 

The Seeker turned slowly, giving me a glare that I swore was going to set me on fire where I stood. Before I had time to react she spun on her heel and marched off with a snarl. _Maker's breath._ My own frustrated sigh hissed through my teeth, and I ran a gloved hand roughly through my hair. Weren't people supposed to band together in the face of adversity? Like in the story of the Hero of Ferelden? Honestly, asking Varric and Cassandra to put aside their differences in the face of an apocalypse didn't sound like much of a request, but Cassandra acted like Varric _was_ the apocalypse. I stood there, hands on my hips, contemplating my life and my situation. I was bone-tired, my whole body ached with battle fatigue, injuries, and from the effects of the mark; I was sick of this entire ordeal already. 

_Could this day possibly get any worse?_

I immediately regretted the silent question, knowing that with my current run of luck it could get _much_ worse. 

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," The elf stated, interrupting my thoughts and giving me a stiff, shallow bow, "I am pleased to see you still live." 

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips, making him look more pleased with _himself_ rather than my survival. I arched a brow and felt my lips twitch into a frown, dubious as to whether his pleasure was genuine or sarcasm. Either way I was unimpressed by the sentiment. 

"What he means is 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'" Varric translated, reading into my stony silence. 

"You do seem to know a great deal about it all..." I mused, gesturing to my hand. I tried to keep the suspicion from reflecting in my tone, even though something about him made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Maybe it was how much he knew about the Breach and the mark. Maybe it was the way he looked at me--like he could read straight through me. Maybe it was both. Something about Solas was unnerving, but I _did_ realize that he'd saved my life. He didn't have to keep the mark from growing but he'd stayed to help even if it meant giving up his freedom. The elf was a mage after all, and mages weren't exactly free beings in Thedas. 

"Solas is an apostate...well-versed in such matters." Cassandra pointed out, clearly more level-headed now that she'd taken the time to breathe and cool off. I didn't miss Solas' slight eye roll at Cassandra's answer, but I made sure to keep my expression polite and curious. Despite my suspicions about him, I knew Solas might have information that could help me survive this...and if that was the case I was all ears. 

"Technically _all_ mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade--far beyond the experience of any Circle mage." Solas explained, folding his hands behind his back, "I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it isn't closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin." 

"And when this is over?" I asked, genuinely curious. The elf gave the Seeker a pointed glance before turning back to me, his expression softening and reminding me of a wise father talking to a naive child. 

"Hopefully the powers in charge will remember those who helped, and those who did not." He answered finally, "Cassandra, you should know that the magic involved here is unlike any I've seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power." 

"Understood," Cassandra acknowledged, giving Solas a curt nod, "We must get to the forward camp quickly." 

The Seeker and the hedge mage marked this as the end of the conversation, marching off towards the path and leaving only Varric and I standing there in a weary and exasperated silence. 

"Well, Vani..." Varric began, giving me the side eye and a gentle pat to the crossbow on his back, "Bianca's excited!" 

The dwarf sidled off after the other two, and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. 

"Andraste preserve me..." I groaned, the half-prayer dying quickly under the noise of the Breach as I trudged my way down the path after my party.


	3. A Light in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Cullen charges with his soldiers after receiving word to storm the remains of the Temple. The fight seems bleak as wave after wave of demons explode from the rifts, and, finally, much needed assistance arrives in the form of the Seeker's prisoner and her marked hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter from Cullen's POV. Trevelyan and Cullen meet for the first time! Again any feedback, kudos or comments are welcomed, and again thank you so much for reading. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Pronunciation for Siobhani (in case anyone was having trouble with it)=Sho-VAWN-ee  
> Most of her family and the Inner Circle will call her "Vani", though. A nickname given to her by her brother.

The screams of the dying echoed woefully off of the crumbling, blackened bones of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They'd been appalling at first when the wounded started pouring into Haven--especially for the younger soldiers who had not seen war or death. Now they'd grown into a steady stream of background noise that mingled with the clash of swords and the roars of true monsters, but they were no less haunting. Ash scoured our lungs with every heaving breath as our feet kicked it up from hard fighting. Sweat poured down our backs under our armor. Exhaustion plucked at every single muscle and tendon in our bodies. We were doomed. 

Whomever had given the order to charge the Temple had issued a death sentence, and I knew that if by some miracle I lived through this day that the pitiful cries of my men would haunt my nightmares for years to come. Their agony fueled my rage--my hate--fanning the flames of the wildfire roaring in my veins. The rage pushed me to fight harder; to drive my blade deeper. Yet the boost could only help so much, and I could feel my energy waning. The harder that I fought to keep up the quicker it would slip away--like water dribbling between my fingers--and I knew wouldn't be long now. The simple truth shook me to the marrow. 

_I would die here today._

In truth, I'd long lost any real hope of surviving this madness. What good were we against a bloody hole in the sky? The Breach flashed and thundered ominously as it expanded above me, almost like it was trying to prove my point. And the demons? Maker, the demons were endless. Rifts dotted the valley and vomited the damnable beasts from the Fade in wave after wave, and to make matters worse we had no way of closing them. It was fight and die today, or retreat and die tomorrow. 

So what good was I? 

_You should have taken it..._

A tiny voice hissed the words spitefully in the back of my mind, the accusatory tone all-to-familiar. It was a voice that I knew well. The sting of its words was always a sharp, piercing barb under my skin, and it had been ever-present since I'd quit Lyrium. Its whispers were endless, and it always repeated over and over: _you should have taken it, you should have taken it_. Most days I could ignore it with some semblance of ease but today it was chillingly loud, demanding to be heard over the roaring panic tainting my thoughts. It brought the familiar ache with it: the steady burn of a thirst that could not be quenched, the hollow memory of overwhelming euphoria as the Lyrium burned through my veins, the sense of utter invincibility as it pushed my body to fight harder and longer. The merciless yearning threatened to cripple my resolve and the Lyrium's song beckoned even louder. Its song was as tempting and beguiling as a desire demon--glowing bright and blue and pure in my mind's eye, and I could feel my mouth watering as it offered to quell my thirst and grant me strength again. It would have been so easy to give in, what with so many fallen Templars around. Chances are that they carried their rations on them for battle, and it would be so easy to just grab a phial and... 

A muddled flash of vivid green clashed with the blue haze that had begun to cloud my vision, and the violence of it quickly snapped me back to reality. The rift was still writhing and twisting above me, but the bursts of light meant that a fresh wave of demons would be coming through soon. I could already hear their roars echoing from the Beyond, and the very last shred of hope that I had been saving, just in case, fluttered away with the wind. Beams of energy arced from the rift and into the ground in broken streaks as the next wave began, the earth cracking and splintering with Fade magic. The demons on the other side passed through the barrier into our world easily. They were shades, and they wasted no time clawing through the mire--clambering onto solid ground hissing and spitting like vipers with their gnarled, yellowed teeth already bared and dripping. As each beast pulled themselves up from the depths of the Fade, they wheeled towards me without missing a beat. I could see their bony fingers flex as they brandished their talons; their sinewy muscles twitching and quivering under ragged, gray flesh as they prepared to pounce. The memories of glowing, pulsating blue bubbled once more to the forefront of my mind, the sinister voice beckoning even louder and urging me to end my suffering. 

_Enough...enough!_

In a moment of blind fury, I squashed the still-whispering voice in my head with a vicious snarl. The voice faded away and in its wake I felt a new, final surge of determination. It sizzled in my blood, gorging itself on my anger and renewing my resolve. I may have resigned myself to dying on this battlefield, but I would die a true soldier's death. I would not die shamefully in the streets begging for my next taste of that cursed, blazing blue. The Lyrium Madness would not take me. Instead, I would die protecting. A death that would bring my family some semblance of honor and pride after the life that I've led. 

Sensing my challenge, the shades shrieked and charged forward with claws raised and teeth bared. I bit back the urge to roar back like an utter madman and, instead, raised my shield, grit my teeth and braced for the blow. This was it. 

_Maker preserve me._

My silent prayer was answered quickly by the hollow bellow of a war horn. The sound echoed through the decimated courtyard--low and haunting--and was quickly followed by a ferocious battle cry that made the hairs on my neck stand on end. The shades halted their attack and turned towards the sound with wary hisses, the last tremors of the the battle cry fading away under the groan of the Breach. I held my breath as a relative silence filled the courtyard, my body taught and on high alert. My ears honed in on each sound that found its way over the din of the Breach: the thundering gallop of my heart beating in my chest--like the pounding hooves of a Fereldan Forder, the distant _clang_ of warring swords near the archway behind me, the occasional roar of a demon from the valley below. My eyes flickered over the stones and rubble, searching frantically for the horn's owner and praying fervently that I hadn't imagined it. After what felt like years, the heavy stillness was shattered by the clamor of sword on shield, and another war cry roared over the ruined courtyard. The shades let out another low hiss, their ragged lips pulling up into a snarl over their foul teeth. 

Then, just like that, everything changed. I could feel the magic before I saw it. It hummed in the air--raising the hair on the back of my neck like I was in a static cage--and the overpowering smell of burning ozone that usually accompanied magic scalded my nose and the back of my throat with its stench. The spells called to the dregs of Lyrium still lingering in my blood, leaving me with a sick feeling in my gut as it began to sing and thrum in my veins. Two seconds later a wall of ice exploded from the ground behind the shades, freezing one solid and entombing it mid-shriek. The mage responsible followed only moments later, his staff raised and pulsating with the soft, tell-tale glow of Winter magic. I recognized him immediately as the apostate hedge mage we'd been consulting on the Breach. Solas, I believe, was his name. He was followed closely by Varric Tethras, a stocky, smart-mouthed dwarf that had ran with the Champion of Kirkwall before the rebellion started. He'd traveled here as Cassandra's prisoner--for what I can only imagine, but being acquainted with his antics I didn't have to be too creative. The dwarf turned and gave me a cheeky wink before launching a volley of arrows from his infamous crossbow. 

Finally, two warriors charged from the shadows, barreling through the shades with shields raised and swords at the ready. I didn't even have time to react; with the help of Solas and Varric, they made quick work of the demons, dispatching them with a savage slash of their swords that sent blood spraying everywhere. I surveyed the carnage in shock and turned, eyes wide, to the warriors. Lady Cassandra was recognizable immediately--barking orders to the party with her usual severe expression. She was speaking in a clipped voice to the other warrior in particular: a tall, dark-haired woman in shabby, sun-faded mercenary armor. It took me a moment, but I finally recognized her as the prisoner from the Temple. The last time I'd seen her she'd been curled into a ball on the floor of the Chantry dungeons, slipping in and out of consciousness with the mark eating away at her hand. I'd not realized that she'd awoken, but I had been on the battlefield for some time. In all honesty, I was surprised that Cassandra had put a blade in her hand but I could not deny that I was grateful for the help--prisoner or no. 

The rift above us flashed again, ominously, and the ground began to bubble and hiss with Fade magic. My gut wrenched with dread as we all turned our eyes to the tear in the Veil. Another wave of demons was fighting to come through. 

"How many rifts _are_ there?" Varric shouted over the din, his voice taking on a sharp edge. He loaded his crossbow with surprisingly nimble fingers as he spoke, eyeing the rift with obvious loathing. 

"We _must_ seal it if we are to get through!" Solas barked, ignoring Varric's question entirely. The elf cast a pointed glare at Cassandra's prisoner, who gave only a curt nod of understanding in answer. As Solas took his stance, staff at the ready, the prisoner hammered her sword hilt against her shield with a vicious snarl. A challenge. I took my own stance, remaining silent as I watched the party's exchange, but I was brimming with questions. 

Seal the rift? Maker, could they...could _she_...end this madness? 

_Stupid question, Rutherford. If she can do it, she damn well better be able to undo it._

I awaited the coming horde with some semblance of my faith renewed and a burning curiosity eating away at the back of my mind. I may survive this after all. The woman's hand sparked with the same electric green energy as the Breach, reminding me that I wasn't out of the woods yet and that I still had work to do. The rift was shifting--expanding--above us, the stench of burning ozone returning as Fade magic dripped from the rift like blood. The smell made my head spin and my stomach lurch, and my eyes began to water as I fought hard to keep myself from gagging. I expected the rift to spit out more shades or wraiths--the beasts bursting loudly from the Fade with enough warning to prepare us for the fight. It was when we noticed long, sharply-taloned "hands" snaking their way from the boiling mire at our feet that we all realized we were facing something else entirely. 

Just as I was beginning to make sense of what I was seeing, a strangled cry ripped through the air. My head jerked towards the noise in time to see one of the claws catch Varric around the ankle, yanking him to the ground with a loud _thud_ and dragging him towards the pool of swirling black at the base of the rift. I watched in what felt like slow motion as the dwarf clawed at the gravel and ash and dust with gloved hands, fighting whatever beast was pulling him to a certain death. 

"Varric!" The prisoner cried, her shrill, panicked voice cracking through the air like a whip. 

She lunged forward and brought her sword edge down hard on the arm slithering from the Fade. The blade struck true, and an earsplitting howl echoed around the courtyard as the creature's severed limb flopped around on the ground like a dying fish. Cassandra's prisoner dragged the dwarf as far from the roiling pool as possible before she yanked him up by the collar and thrust his crossbow at him. Varric didn't seem to need anymore explanation. He gave the woman a nod of gratitude and took his stance--well away from the dangers of the remaining arms still searching for unsuspecting prey. By now the agonized howls of the wounded demon had morphed into furious, deafening roars. The sound was so loud that I could feel it rumble deep in my chest, and this time more limbs came crawling out of the murk along with the demons that were attached to them. Three monstrously tall beasts skittered from the Fade and rose slowly, unfolding their spindly, spider-like limbs to stand nearly eight feet tall. They glared down at us with black, empty eyes--their bony tails swishing across the gravel with a _hisssss_ as they flashed razor sharp talons and gaping jaws filled with rows and rows of teeth. A dark fear tugged at the farthest reaches of my memory, willing me to listen. I had seen these beasts before. 

Terrors. 

"Oh...bloody hell..." 

The prisoner's curse slid through her tightly clenched teeth, and I peeked around my shield to see her eyes wide and fixated on the creature closest to her; her mouth twisted into a disgusted grimace. 

"Be wary!" Solas bellowed, already firing ice spikes from his staff, "They can manipulate the Fade! Teleport!" 

_Yeah, I remember..._ I thought darkly. 

" _Fanstastic_..." The prisoner hissed, the sarcasm in her tone biting. 

The woman's quick words brought the quirk of a smile to my lips, and together we lunged towards the terrors with shields raised. 

The fight was rough and messy, but surprisingly quick. Cassandra's prisoner fought hard, barreling towards the demons with no fear and no hesitation. She was nimble on her feet, easily dodging and blocking the creature's claws before bringing her blade down hard. Demon blood splattered across the stones and filled the air with its foul smell, but it didn't seem to faze her. Instead, she whirled with a determined smirk and slammed her shield into the terror with all of the force of a hurricane. The demon let out a screech of agony as its bones collapsed with a nauseating crunch. 

While the prisoner fought her demon, Cassandra and I moved on to the terror circling the the rift. We struck at the beast's spindly legs first, hoping to knock it off balance, but one well placed blow had it screaming like a banshee and frothing like a mad dog. One of its long arms swung towards us, throwing Cassandra backwards with the sheer force of the blow before it hammered into my shield. The power behind the hit sent tremors down my arm that damn near made my teeth rattle. I clenched my jaw against the pain and raised my shield higher to parry another wild slash of the demon's claws. My block left the creature's soft middle wide open, and I took the chance to swing my sword at the demon's waist. As the blade struck, the creature let out a blood curdling scream, its unhinged mouth gaping wide and brandishing its long, dripping fangs. 

I heard the sickening rip of flesh before I saw the blood. A blade burst through the terror's chest and a shower of black blood sprayed over my armor and face, coating my hair in a thick slime and oozing into my mouth. It reeked like death and sulfur--tasted considerably worse--and it was all that I could do to keep from gagging at the stench. The blade slid out with an odd crunching sound as it ground through bone and the terror collapsed into a heap of bloodied limbs and claws and flesh. Safe for now, I coughed and hacked as I tried to spit out the blood. It was absolutely disgusting, and I spit a well-aimed gob of blackened saliva at the demon's corpse as disintegrated--the Fade claiming its remains. 

"Are you alright, Commander Cullen?" Cassandra asked, wiping off her sword and fighting a grin as I struggled against the bile rising in my throat. 

"Just so..." I spat, "Thanks for the shower." 

"Don't mention it." Cassandra chuckled, giving me a quick smirk as she marched off to see to her party. I shook my head and sighed heavily, fortifying myself against the coming wave of nausea. Maker, I was getting too old for this. 

Green light illuminated the courtyard again, flashing in a quick, staccato rhythm, and I felt my gut wrench in horror at the idea of having to fight through another wave. Lost in my dread, it took me a moment the notice the hum of energy behind the flickering light. It vibrated deep in my chest and the dust and pebbles beneath my feet skittered along the ground with the power of it. I turned my eyes to the rift just as it imploded with a final burst of light and faded away in smoky tendrils of green. My breath left me in a _whoosh_ and I felt tears of relief prickling at my eyes. 

_Merciful Andraste, it was over with._

But how? 

My eyes flickered to the warrior in answer. One glance at her told me that she was in distress. Her skin had taken on a sickly pallor and a light sheen of sweat had just begun to bead on her forehead. It could have easily been mistaken for battle fatigue or exertion to an untrained eye, but I had seen pain--I had felt it--and I knew the signs better than most trained healers. It manifested itself in the harsh set of her jaw and the way her lips pressed into a tight line as she fought to conceal a grimace, in the way her brows knit unconsciously, and in the defeated hunch of her shoulders as she spoke to Solas in a quick, hushed tone. The mage cradled her trembling left hand in his, studying it with an air of detached curiosity and mild concern as energy crackled violently from the mark on her palm like lightning. The light flickered through her fingers and twisted around her wrist-- a pulsating, dark heartbeat that illuminated the woman's features in such a way that it set an ominous shiver skating down my spine. Cassandra's prisoner grimaced, the pain finally winning over her resolve, and a hissed string of expletives slid through her clenched teeth as she flexed her fingers in a weak attempt to fight the Fade magic eating away at her hand. 

Solas ignored her tangent and continued to study the mark on her palm, his brow furrowing as the energy began to dissipate before fading altogether. As the magic quieted, the woman balled her hand into a tight fist..her face relaxing at last into a mask of exhaustion. It was obvious that the magic was taking a heavy toll on her, and I was torn between feeling sympathy towards her pain and a twinge of vengeful satisfaction. She had murdered hundreds...thousands. Shouldn't this pain be her penance? 

Suddenly, the prisoner's head snapped in my direction--like she could hear my thoughts and see the conflict in my mind almost as plain as if I were speaking it aloud. The woman snatched her hand from Solas' grasp and hid it behind her back, a deep scowl marring her features as her eyes glared boldly into mine. The meaning was plain. I was an unwelcome observer to her pain, her guilt...to her weakness. Solas' brows knit in confusion and I could see the question written on his face. Instead of asking, he followed her defiant gaze to see me watching their exchange. The elven mage met my eyes and a flicker of understanding passed over his features before they smoothed into a mask of cool indifference. 

I knew how to take a hint. 

It took all of my self control to suppress a growl, and I, instead, stowed my shield on my back and turned to Cassandra. She would have answers and I would be less inclined to want to kill her. 

"Lady Cassandra." I greeted with a curt nod, "You found a way to seal the rifts. Well done." 

My sword still glistened with oily, black blood and I used the edge of my already-stained cloak to wipe off the filth. Cassandra responded to my praise with a heavy sigh before shaking her head. 

"Do not congratulate me, Commander. This is the prisoner's doing." She said, gesturing to the warrior behind her, "She is called Vani." 

"Is it?" I asked as I sheathed my sword, knowing very well that it was since I'd seen it with my own two eyes. 

The prisoner nodded silently, wiping the blood from her own sword with a stained rag and watching me with an unreadable expression. My eyes scanned her from top to bottom now, and I was surprised to find that she was rather unremarkable. Nothing about her screamed "mass-murderer", save for the glowing mark on her left hand branding her as such. In fact, she seemed ordinary. Vani was slender but sturdy--a consequence of her choice in weaponry no doubt--and she was fairly tall. She stood eye level with me on even ground and I was just over six foot. Her old, ill-fitting armor seemed to swallow her whole and hung off of her like a potato sack; speckles of demon blood arced across the fabric and glistened on the metal platings in a macabre fashion. It even smeared the worn leather of her boots. The sword that she was diligently wiping of filth was a standard issue soldier's sword and the edges of a rounded wooden shield peeked above her shoulders from where it hung on her back. 

Vani's skin seemed to be lightly tanned, though it was hard to tell through the blood, dirt, and grime that caked her face and neck. It was easy to tell, however, that her skin was surprisingly smooth--not a scar or blemish marred her features. Her dark brown hair--almost black, it was so dark--was twisted into a messy topknot, and it had several tightly-woven scalp braids reminiscent of what I'd seen on the Qunari in Kirkwall scattered throughout. Sable tendrils of loose hair curled their way from her temples and framed her face, softening the wild, rugged look that the braids, bun, and grime gave her. 

In truth, she looked nothing like the vile monster that the villagers and guardsmen had painted her out to be. Now that she was standing in front of me, in the flesh and lucid, she looked like nothing but a common vagabond--a mercenary maybe? She'd obviously learned to wield a blade somewhere and she'd been trained _well_. 

"And the decision to charge the Temple...you as well?" I finally continued, my tone brusque and vaguely bitter. Vani froze and fixated on me with fierce, brilliantly hazel eyes. She sheathed her sword with a little more force than was necessary before giving me a curt nod. I did not miss that she kept her hand resting on the pommel. 

"I see. Well, I hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of good people getting you here." I snapped, my tone more accusatory than I'd meant. 

Vani cultivated her sharp features into a mask of haughty indifference--a slender, well-groomed brow arched in amusement and the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her eyes, however, betrayed her and the carefully controlled expression she held. The hazel depths grew dark, hardening into polished stones brimming with unspoken anger. 

"I will certainly endeavor to live up to your expectations, _ser_." She replied finally, her speech echoing with the all the grace and finesse of a high-born lady. I even detected the slightest lilt of an accent. A Marcher? 

Despite my shock at her manners, I did not miss the carefully controlled tone or the scathing sarcasm. Nor did I miss the way her eyes flashed over my form, lingering on my sword for just a moment longer than necessary.

Was...was she _sizing me up_? 

"That's all we can ask for." I answered, working to keep my tone even and calm this time. 

Vani nodded stiffly, her expression still rigid and cold. She gave Cassandra a pointed glare before marching off towards Varric and Solas with her head held high and her back ramrod straight. Cassandra sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose between two gloved fingers. 

"If you are going to blame someone for the deaths that we had here, then blame me. The decision to charge was my suggestion as it was the quickest way to the Temple. I let her have the final word, and I do not regret it. If a few must die to save many, I will gladly make that sacrifice...even if the sacrifice must be my own." Cassandra explained, her expression hard. 

"And what about her? Is she willing to die, if that's what it takes?" I retorted, my eyes fixated on the prisoner's back as she spoke with the others. 

"Indeed. She came here willingly, fully aware that an attempt to close the Breach may kill her. She has accepted that she may have to make that sacrifice...we all have." Cassandra replied, gazing at her party with an unreadable expression. 

Before I had time to reply the Breach rumbled and flashed above us, expanding yet again. A gut-wrenching keen pierced high above the noise, and Vani crumpled to her knees with her marked hand clutched to her chest. The mark itself sputtered and crackled with the same sickly green light--snaking its way all the way up to her elbow now--and the realization of what I was seeing hit me like war hammer to the chest. The mark was expanding with the Breach. 

Solas knelt down beside the woman and gently pried her arm away from her chest so he could examine the mark again, eyes soft and kind as he gazed at her in concern. I felt my heart plummet like a stone into the pit of my stomach. If Solas was worried, then I knew that we all should be. 

"Seeker!" He shouted over the din, "We _must_ hurry. My magic will not hold the mark at bay any longer. She's dying!" 

Cassandra immediately became a whirlwind of movement, gently helping the prisoner to her feet before marching back to me and spouting orders in a quick, hushed voice. 

"Get everyone you can away from the Temple. There's no telling what we will face when we try to close the Breach....and if there is another explosion..." She warned, her words catching in her throat. I gave a slow nod, knowing full well the dangers that were to be faced. 

"Leliana will meet you at the Temple," I replied, "Maker watch over you...for all our sakes." 

My eyes trailed back to Vani as I uttered my small prayer. She gazed back at me with a strange expression, tear trails cutting through the grime and bloodstains on her cheeks...and for some reason, I couldn't look away. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around a small token dangling around her neck, and, as I backed away, she gave the token in her hand a small kiss and turned to face the Breach. She stared defiantly into the swirling maelstrom and I knew I would never forget that moment. The sight of Vani facing the Breach with her head held high, her hand flickering with green as the damned tear in the sky threatened to expand again--the twisted bodies of the dead burning all around her, sprawled across the rubble of the Temple. It sent another ominous chill down my spine, and I felt gooseflesh rise on my arms underneath my armor. Then she dropped down into the Temple's decimated entrance, disappearing and breaking the spell...and leaving me with a small seed of guilt growing in my heart. 

_She came here willingly..._

Cassandra's words echoed in my mind, rooting the seed even deeper. A sigh slipped passed my lips as the other three followed her into danger and I offered another silent prayer to the Maker in hopes that He was listening. 

_Keep them all safe._

I turned away from the Temple entrance and did what I could to evacuate the wounded from the area. The men cried out in fear and the few Chantry sisters working the front lines screamed in fright as great roars echoed from inside the ruins of the Temple. Violent flashes of green lit up the blackened stones like lightning in a thunderstorm. The panic made them move quicker, and not ten minutes later the last wagon carrying the Chantry sisters and the remaining wounded hobbled down the rocky pathway to Haven. I followed close behind on horseback, and just as we were crossing the gates into Haven, a blinding ball of energy shot into the swirling clouds. Not long after a shock wave splintered through the village--causing windows to explode and screams of fright to echo through the streets. 

The shocked silence that followed after quickly erupted into cries of joy and relief. Mothers hugged their children, lovers clung to each other with tears in their eyes, and the faithful fell to their knees with their hands clasped and the Maker's praises tumbling from their lips. It seemed that I was the only one staring at the Breach with a deep sense of dread. Cassandra's words of sacrifice weeded their way into my mind, and as I gazed into the quietening maelstrom...Vani's fearful eyes glared back. 


End file.
